(no subject)
Okay, so it was getting kind of cliche. With no school and no Mom to look after, there wasn't a whole lot for him to do but waste time in the kitchen. Besides, it was Christmas, and it had always been left up to him to do the holiday baking back home, so spending entire days in the kitchen during Christmas break was a habit he'd probably developed while he'd still been in elementary school.
The holidays were pretty much touch and go for the Gregsons, but in theory, there wasn't much about the season for Marshall not to like. And okay, the pervasively Americanized commercialism of the holiday had always been really disheartening, but as a whole, there was still a part of him that loved this time of year more than any other.
The Whoville thing was kind of overkill, but that didn't stop him from throwing himself head first into baking. It was still early in the month, but if he staggered these cookie batches throughout the season, there'd hardly be a day when there wasn't something festive for people to try. Today, he made Mexican Wedding Cookies, Moravian Spice Cookies, oatmeal and butterscotch blondies, cinnamon stars, and chocolate shortbread with a white chocolate dipping sauce. A festive, holly-covered apron tied around himself, he was still dusted with flour and kind of frazzled by the end of it, but making cookies meant he didn't have to think about how much he missed Mom and Dad.
He wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't. For about as long as he could remember, he'd wanted to finally put a little distance between himself and that house, but this would be the first Christmas he'd spent away from home, and there was nothing liberating about it. It wasn't a relief. He missed them, and it probably didn't matter how many fucking cookies he made, he'd still miss them, but for now he was going to pretend everything was okay, because other than that, there wasn't a whole lot he could do.
Leaning over a pan of cinnamon stars fresh from the oven, he wiggled a spatula carefully under one of the cookies, trying to lift it from the pan without breaking the points on the star. They were delicate, and still a little warm, and with a muttered curse, he set one slightly warped cookie onto the rack to cool.
Okay, maybe this whole holiday cheer thing wasn't going great, so far.
[[Find him in the kitchen (BIG SURPRISE), surrounded by cooling cookies. As usual, he's gone kind of overboard, but 'tis the season for frantic baking, right? Open to all. ST/LT welcome.]]
The holidays were pretty much touch and go for the Gregsons, but in theory, there wasn't much about the season for Marshall not to like. And okay, the pervasively Americanized commercialism of the holiday had always been really disheartening, but as a whole, there was still a part of him that loved this time of year more than any other.
The Whoville thing was kind of overkill, but that didn't stop him from throwing himself head first into baking. It was still early in the month, but if he staggered these cookie batches throughout the season, there'd hardly be a day when there wasn't something festive for people to try. Today, he made Mexican Wedding Cookies, Moravian Spice Cookies, oatmeal and butterscotch blondies, cinnamon stars, and chocolate shortbread with a white chocolate dipping sauce. A festive, holly-covered apron tied around himself, he was still dusted with flour and kind of frazzled by the end of it, but making cookies meant he didn't have to think about how much he missed Mom and Dad.
He wasn't thinking about that. He wasn't. For about as long as he could remember, he'd wanted to finally put a little distance between himself and that house, but this would be the first Christmas he'd spent away from home, and there was nothing liberating about it. It wasn't a relief. He missed them, and it probably didn't matter how many fucking cookies he made, he'd still miss them, but for now he was going to pretend everything was okay, because other than that, there wasn't a whole lot he could do.
Leaning over a pan of cinnamon stars fresh from the oven, he wiggled a spatula carefully under one of the cookies, trying to lift it from the pan without breaking the points on the star. They were delicate, and still a little warm, and with a muttered curse, he set one slightly warped cookie onto the rack to cool.
Okay, maybe this whole holiday cheer thing wasn't going great, so far.
[[Find him in the kitchen (BIG SURPRISE), surrounded by cooling cookies. As usual, he's gone kind of overboard, but 'tis the season for frantic baking, right? Open to all. ST/LT welcome.]]